The Waterfall

“Quick,” yelled the boy over the drumming of the waterfall. His coat flapped a million directions, battered by the relentless wind and spray. “Pour it! Clancy—now or never! Pour it!”

Clancy stood a few feet away, unmoving. A small smile played across his thin lips.

The boy’s eyes widened. His shoulders sagged, and a shuddering breath escaped his frail frame. “…You’re not going to give it up, are you?”

The stout man shrugged. His brown eyes seemed to shimmer with glee, although his expression was apologetic, as he replied thoughtfully, “Well not really. Actually, no. You’re a smart lad, Jim, and you’ve learned quite a bit over the last few weeks. But there’s one lesson left for me to teach you. Careful who you trust, boy.” Clancy gave his black hat a tip-tap, and twirled on his heel with a wink, coattails flying.

Jim shook his head in disbelief. A rush of heat washed over him, and before he realized what he was doing, he lunged at the man he had so fondly called friend. The air whistled—then a sleek blade appeared at his throat. A hand materialized on his shirt. In a low growl, Clancy whispered, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, laddie.” The boy struggled, but the man had a death grip on his collar. The blade, protruding from the end of his wooden cane, pushed his chin up. It felt cold on his skin.

Clancy took a step forward, forcing Jim to stumble backward to the edge of the sheer cliff. Droplets of water matted his red hair, stinging his eyes and any exposed skin. His teeth chattered. “You can’t do this, Clancy. They need that elixir! What use do you have for it?” The boy’s foot slipped, sending a few gray pebbles crumbling from the edge into the churning brown water a thousand miles below.

“I have no use for it, that is true, but there are people willing to pay any price for what they want. Imagine the possibilities! However, I’m afraid you won’t live to enjoy it. A shame, really.” He extended his arm farther over the edge. The boy could no longer keep his feet on the cliff, and gasping, dangled in the open air as he clutched the man’s arm.

He was suffocating. Clancy watched on unperturbedly, showing no strain from upholding the weight with one hand. “I’m sorry, lad. But you are in my way.”

And let him go.

The man in the top hat proceeded along the ravine floor, remarkably out of place among the swaying grasses as he tapped a boulder with his cane every few feet or so.

Inexplicably, he paused.

His eyes glimmered as he slowly turned his head to face the direction of the waterfall. Clancy held that pose for several long moments, his expression unreadable. A magpie cawed somewhere in the brush.

His gloved white fingers shook only slightly as he continued to tap and whistle his way through the valley clovers.